Hart's Hollow Farm (New Americana 4)

He smiled back. “Morning. Sorry for waking you, but I was worried.”

And just like that, her happy look of greeting dissolved. She didn’t move, didn’t speak, but the change was apparent all the same.

Dragging one hand across the back of his neck, he motioned toward the empty space beside her. “May I?” At her slight nod, he eased into a seated position on the bed. “I waited up for you last night. Where’d you go?”

She rubbed her forehead, stifling a yawn. “I checked the fields, then took a walk. Guess I lost track of time.”

“After it got dark?” He held her gaze. Watched the color in her cheeks deepen. “For over six hours?”

She frowned, lifted to an elbow, then pushed herself upright against the pillow. “Did you come in here and wake me up just to interrogate me?”

“You can’t blame me for being concerned, after the way you left yesterday,” he said quietly. “And if you’d open up once in a while, I wouldn’t have to ask.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Whatever you’re feeling. Whatever you’re thinkin—”

“I’m thinking it’s Sunday and I could’ve used another hour of sleep.” The frown morphed into a scowl. Her small nose wrinkled, and there was just a hint of dimples at the corners of her pinched mouth.

He grinned. “You’re damned cute when you’re angry, you know that?”

She stared for a minute, and then her mouth twitched. “That might’ve been a smooth line about twenty years ago, but it’s kinda striking you out right now.”

He laughed, the gleam of humor in her eyes lifting some of the tension from his shoulders. “Really?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Hmm. Guess I’m gonna have to work on my approach.”

Her eyes traveled over him, lingering on his chest, arms, then thighs. “Well, you have an advantage in at least one department.”

He leaned closer, his gaze tracing the gentle swell of her lower lip. “Which one would that be?”

Her chest rose on a quick breath. “You’re pretty easy on a girl’s eyes. Especially first thing in the morning.”

“It’s pretty nice waking up to you, too.”

He brushed his mouth across hers and waited. When she lifted her chin in invitation, he dipped his head again, parted her lips with his, and deepened the kiss until he coaxed forth a low, contented moan.

Her warm palm slid up over his shoulder, then cupped the back of his head. Her fingers weaved through his hair and then tugged him closer. Pleasurable tingles rippled over his scalp and down his back, and the feel of her hand on him, the soft glide of her touch, conjured forth a mix of emotions he’d never experienced before. Fierce desire, gentle tenderness, and an overwhelming urge to protect.

They caught him off guard. Made it damned near impossible to lift his mouth from hers and raise his head.

“Mitch?” She gazed up at him, returning his stare, her kiss-reddened mouth slightly swollen and lids heavy. A wary look crossed her expression as she whispered, “What is it you want me to say?”

That you love me. That you need me as much as I need you. That no matter what I’m up against, you’re in it with me, and you’ll stay, even though I know you want to run.

The words were on his tongue, were parting his lips and stealing his breath. But the distant pain in her eyes, which appeared so often, halted them and made him choke back the plea for fear she’d bolt.

Instead, he reached behind his head, brought her hand forward, and turned it over. He trailed a fingertip from the edge of her soft palm to the pads of her fingers.

“I want you to say that you’ll get dressed, then meet me on the other side of that door with an open mind.” He reached out, lifted her other hand, and squeezed them both tight. “And that you’ll let me borrow these for a little while.”

Her brow furrowed, and her gaze moved from his face to his hands, still holding hers, then to the door. “That’s all?”

“For now.”

She remained quiet for a few moments before refocusing on him. Her voice so soft he barely caught her answer, she said, “Okay.”